Faded Interlude
by Purrrrfectpixie
Summary: How many chances is one soul given for greatness? Is it enough to play a supporting role, standing back to let another achieve the goals you've fought hard to protect, even in death? Apparently, it is... Fem!Cousland and...well...you'll see.
1. Chapter 1

**Faded Interlude**

**A/N:Greetings fellow DA lovers! **

**I present for your investigation (or dissection, which ever you prefer to pursue), the tale of a grossly under-appreciated character. I was sorely disappointed at how flat his personality was portrayed in one of his only two appearances, so have taken it upon my own inadequate shoulders to show him in a bit more of a detailed light. **

**Be warned, this is only a representation of my own impression of things, so please, be merciful!**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine! Brilliantly designed world, intriguing characters, and stirring, addicting story; all these belong to BioWare and all the talented folks who work in it's fold. I merely seek to go between the lines and spin my own simple stories, to the best of my ability within the bounds they have set.**

There is a frightening sameness in the Fade. All is twisted and defiled, even memories held dear to one's heart are stained minutely by it's influence. This particular patch, held by a rather unimaginative sloth demon was no exception.

The soul at it's nexus had seen much more cleverly designed prisons, so the thought of having been drawn into this one was just an insult. Well, it would have been an insult, if only the soul could remember It's own identity enough to be insulted. The creature took a few infinite moments to remember...It had been a "he" at one time, hadn't It?

Insubstantial memories drifted up, too far out of reach to grab and reclaim, but still close enough to view. Yes, it seems It was most definitely male.

Well, that is at least a start. The newly discovered He now toyed with the worth of dredging up more memories, but the exhaustion of being a source for sustaining this pitiful corner of the Fade for his jailer dampened any desire for further amusement.

A discomfiting disturbance in a nearby area of his prison, made the hapless He-who-was-once-It curse his noisy fellow prisoner.

Imagine, fighting the illusion, as if the effort would somehow bring it all to an end. Ha! The demon may not have had much of a creative frame of mind, but it had certainly spun it's many-layered web well.

His eyes widened(wait, he had eyes? Huh, fancy that...) as the fabric of the Fade some distance in front of him warped and ripped open, spitting out an indignant someone like, and yet very unlike, himself. Another...human, if he remembered the term correctly. Yes, that was it, a human, that's what he was(is?), and so was this...very interesting person who knelt, fussily straightening out their shiny looking accouterments (armor?).

Two arms, two legs, with the same hands and feet adorning the ends, exactly like his own (though, he couldn't help glancing down at himself, just to check). A head, with the inevitable accompanying face. Yep, everything checked out, they were both of the same species, as far as he could tell.

So what was this annoying sense at the back of his mind that he was missing some important detail?

It wasn't until the other left off the fussing and faced him, that he finally realized what was bothering him. He'd left out height...and torso. A serious oversight, which apparently made all the difference.

Height...considerably less than his. Torso? Now _there_ was the heart of the difference! The shape was all wrong! Or...was it?

With startling clarity that threatened to split his now confirmed head, a rush of memories swamped the poor Him, enlightening him to the fact that this human standing opposite him was a She. The memories were too many, and too jumbled for him to sort out, but a part of himself that had nothing to do with rational thought reminded him that she-humans could be _very_ nice...or very exasperating, depending on the situation.

The She in this case seemed to promise more of the exasperation, judging from her choice in accessories. The dual blades strapped to her back were too worn and _experienced_ looking to be just for show.

Then she looked up. Oh. Well......maybe one can't always tell from first glance, it had been a long while since he'd seen another human, much less a female.

Hadn't it?

Never mind. It didn't seem quite so important how long it had been since he'd seen a woman (yes, that's what they called them, wonderful creatures, if his memory served him), just so long as he could spend at least a little while longer studying this one.

As she took a few moments to glance around her, he took advantage of the pause to investigate every detail of her face and form distance would allow.

Not one of the tallest women he could remember seeing, but she held herself with the authority of one used to command. None of the women he'd ever known had held themselves thus, all of them being mages, and subject to constant scrutiny.

The memories flooding back were finally falling into an order he could understand, and the understanding was not always pleasant. Templars (he flinched at that memory) were the only ones he could remember seeing with a stance like that. Could she be a templar? No, the armor was all wrong, templars didn't dual-wield, and besides that, her face...oh that face...

He gave his head a little shake. Back to the business at hand. Face.

Her face held none of the almost fanatical devotion to duty and honor, he had seen in every templar he'd ever met. It was too...soft, sweet, innocent. In other words, completely at odds with the rest of her appearance. Crowned with black hair, it was heart-shaped and pixie featured, with two of the largest eyes the Maker could mercifully give such a little person.

Yet, was it really mercy, or just a joke, having to deal with eyes that big? How hard did she have to fight to be taken seriously, with peepers like that undermining everything she said? Made him wonder, who it was really more unfair to, being the one on the receiving end of those beauties, or the one having to convince everyone around her she was quite capable of taking care of herself, thank you very much!

A ghost of a smile drifted across his mouth, as he contemplated that interesting little scenario. Well now, that wasn't so bad, was it, smiling for the first time since...

Every thought in his mind slammed to a halt, and his heart dropped down into his toes. Now he remembered why he was here. The Circle. Uldred. Blood Magic. Litany of Adralla. Sloth demon.

The gaze he turned back on his visitor was shaded with suspicion. What better way to lull him back into insensibility, than with a woman? It was a classic desire demon ploy.

The face that turned to him, now seemed too artfully crafted, too cleverly guileless. She advanced on him with a speed that made him pull back a few steps, drawing into himself, marshaling resistance to the onslaught of seduction that was sure to follow.

The chipper "Hullo!" that issued in place of the usual purring of a desire demon threw him back off balance. He blinked at her owlishly, before finally forcing out his brilliant rejoinder.

"Who are you? Where did you come from? Are you a demon?"

Ah yes, that'll show her. Idiot.

Her head cocked to one side, sensible ponytail flopping askew, and a single brow twitched.

"I'm not all that experienced in the ways of demons, but isn't it normally more their style to show you someone near and dear to you, rather than a total stranger? I'm just guessing here, but that's the trend I've seen, so far. Not a very creative lot, these demon-types."

This elicited another unwitting half-smile from him. Her logic was simple. A trifle uninformed, perhaps, but on the whole, fairly sound. And hardly the protest of innocence one would expect from a demon trying to hide it's nature.

"No... I can see that you're not. You're like me. Congratulations on getting out of that trap." The tone of his voice left the impression that the accomplishment was hardly worth the effort.

If she noticed his lack of exuberance, she didn't let it show, dropping her friendly demeanor for one of more urgency.

"What about my companions? Are they trapped too?" Her forehead creased ever-so-slightly.

He blinked at this revelation. Companions? Other dreamers? Was that why he had suddenly started to remember himself? Was the sloth demon getting distracted? He cast his senses out to the prison he had become an integral part of. No, he could detect no weaknesses in the barriers, no loosening of the bonds that held this little world together.

Hopes risen just a fragment, fell even lower.

His expression took on a hint of pity for this ignorant little dreamer.

"You came here with others? Then yes, they would be trapped. The demon traps everything that comes here in a dream it thinks they can't...or won't...try to leave."

He could see her shifting, impatiently, ready to blurt out her own escape as evidence to the contrary, but he cut her off with a raised hand, and a doleful frown.

"I thought I'd escaped too, but I've been wandering these empty, gray spaces for a lifetime."

His solemn pronouncement seemed to dampen most of her enthusiasm, the loss of which he regretted, but it did nothing at all to quell her grim determination. Her face hardened into a mask of authority he was certain came from long practice. Feet apart, arms akimbo, head tilted back so she could survey her surroundings clearly, she launched into a torrent of questions ranging from the nature of the Fade, to the structure of their prison and it's obstacles.

He tried to keep the annoyance from creeping into his answers, but when she asked him what he knew about the sloth demon, he couldn't bite back a sarcastic reply.

"Not much. You couldn't say we're friends, really"

She winced visibly at his tone, dropping her arms down from their defensive position and shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. One arm crept behind her to clasp the other where it swung at her side. The pose struck him as oddly...girlish, as was the constant chewing at the corner of her lip. She studied the ground at his feet as if it was suddenly the most interesting sight she'd ever seen. Her voice crept out, low and chastened.

"Y'know? I am one insensitive moron. Here I am, barking at you as if any of this was your fault, and I don't even have the common decency to ask you the one question that matters most: Who are you? I know I've been an ass, but could you at least tell me your name, so I know who I'm apologizing to?"

Her softened approach disarmed him slightly, but the bitterness at his situation ran too deep to keep out of his tone entirely.

"My name is Niall. I was trying to save the Circle when I encountered the sloth demon. I expect our experiences were similar"

She grimaced, chagrin seasoning her faint chuckle. Her eyes stared absently behind him for a few seconds, and he was filled with the unreasonable urge to reach out and give her a tiny shove to see if she'd topple.

Her features popped back to life with a speed that made him jump, when she finally realized the significance of the name he'd given.

"Niall? Oh yes, Niall! Owain mentioned you!" She was positively bouncing with glee. Made quite the incongruous sight, a figure in full armor, hopping about like a girl with her first pony.

His bitter smirk softened into just a sad smile. This had to be the strangest woman....or girl (honestly, it was hard to tell), he had ever met.

His thoughts drifted back to his purpose for being here. Owain.... the Litany.... his hands stretched out in front of him as if he still held it, then balled into fists and dropped at his sides.

"Owain helped me greatly. I suppose I'll never be able to repay him"

A tiny _chink_ of armor settling indicated that his audience had stopped bouncing rather abruptly.

His eyes weren't focused on his surroundings anymore, seeing only the faces of his friends, his fellow mages, all the lives he'd stood to save...only to let them all down in a moment of weakness.

"The Litany was our weapon against the blood mages' domination. But it's too late. Everyone's dead..."

An uncharacteristic surge of anger swung him around to plant his fist in a rotted pillar behind him. As one would imagine, the collision effected him more than the pillar.

The shock of the impact traveled up his arm, sending his shoulders flinching up to his ears.

He swallowed the pain. It didn't hurt nearly as much as the realization of the futility of his efforts. His musings consumed him completely, so the hand laid gently on his shoulder had all the subtlety of a lightning bolt shooting down his spine. He spun around to face his comforter, who's presence he'd entirely forgotten.

She snatched her hand back, whipping it behind her again where it would do no more mischief.

He noticed her inordinately huge eyes were a deep green, and their apologetic gaze wavered between his face and his... arm?

Darting her hands out before he could react, she retrieved the swiftly bruising fist he didn't know he was cradling, running her fingers over the abused knuckles and murmuring worriedly under her breath.

Reaching into a pouch at her waist, she pulled out a tiny vial, uncorked it and gingerly pored a few drops over the abraded skin, rubbing it in carefully. The astringent odor of elf root drifted up, and he had to resist the urge to sneeze.

Glancing up from her ministrations, she studied his face curiously before turning her attention back to wrapping the "wound" with a soft strip of cloth.

Doctoring completed, she hesitated to release his hand, pinning him with an intense, ambiguous stare.

"There is still hope, isn't there?"

At the uncertainty in her voice, as though she were begging him to be wrong, all the bitterness drained away, leaving only pity. It was a damned shame, a crime for someone so vital and young to be trapped in the Fade like this, but he couldn't lie to her. He had fought with all his strength, rampaging from one end of his cage to the other, his only reward being a total fatigue of the soul, and an almost complete loss of self.

"This place drains you of everything... hope, feeling, life..."

She dropped his hand like a hot coal, stepping back from him and crossing her arms tightly, green-eyed stare growing ever more baleful. Her chin tilted stubbornly, but he could see it jump with an unconscious pout, and her voice had a quaver she couldn't disguise.

"It's not too late, I'm sure."

He held out his hands, helplessly, silently begging her not to fight the inevitable. She retreated a few more steps, stumbling a little in her haste. He stared at the picture she made now, hugging herself tightly, eyes squeezed shut as if avoiding the sight of him would negate everything he'd said. She looked more like a lost child hiding in her father's armor for comfort, than the commanding, confidant young woman who had invaded the privacy of his identity crisis only moments before.

"No...", he whispered, wishing even as he said it he could change the truth, but...what mortal could? "There is no way out of here. You think there might be, but... you'd be wrong."

Pointing out the transport pedestal, he explained the different islands, and the lesser demon guardians who made up the protective barrier around the sloth demon's central seat. The effect of this speech on her was not quite what he had anticipated. The death grip she had on her elbows loosened and her eyes opened wide, focusing on the pedestal, expression unreadable. When he'd finished, her body locked into what he had come to think of as her "soldier pose".

Setting off at a determined trot, she circled every foot of his personal "cell".

"What's this?" Her voice drifted back to him from a dark little corner concealing a small glowing portal.

Dropping back against the pillar, he slid down to the base, pulling up a knee and halfheartedly examining his new bandage, picking at the edge of the cloth, pulling out thread after tiny thread. Turning his head in her general direction, he bellowed apathetically back. "That leads to another portion of the fade. It's where I found that mouse hole I told you about."

"I'll be right back!', was her cheerful reply.

"Suit yourse-wait, wha...!?" Snapping up his head as the realization of what she'd said hit him, he leaped to find her. A foot catching on the hem of his robes sent him into an awkward, stuttering run.

By the time he reached the portal, she was already through.

An exasperated sigh tried to push it's way past tightly pressed lips.

"Be right back, will she? I'll say she will. There's nothing there..."

**A/N: Well, there you have it, the first installment. …..........Well........Yup..........**

**Ok, ok! Before you start grabbing my poor little ears and hollering, "NIALL!? Why him, prrreciouss???", let me explain.......**

**Why the frugnappity not??????????**

**To put it simply, I love understated guys, guys who put up an apathetic front to the rest of the world, while underneath lay the most tender hearts on earth. Put them under extreme pressure however, and let me tell you, they give Emo a new meaning! Everything under the sun becomes their fault. Silly guys.**

**Niall, I felt, fell into that group perfectly, and if you've ever played through the mage origin, you'll see what I mean.**

**Otay, last note: the PC in this case is a bit different in build from cannon. A short Fem! Cousland, you ask? Yup. Anyone besides me notice how short both her parents were compared to her? That seem kooky to anyone? In any case, I'm a vertically challenged person myself, and firmly seated in the belief that the tiny will inherit the earth.**

**I'm going to go hide now....Please review, no flames, all flames will be fed to the giant dustbunnies of doom, and so on...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Faded Interlude**

**A/N: I had planned on waiting 'till next week to post this, but what the hooz, I couldn't resist! Weell, so far I haven't had my ears scorched yet, so I guess y'all don't mind my oddness. That's always good...**

**Disclaimer: Once again, not mine! Much as we envy them, all characters and settings belong to BioWare, so I'll just have to content myself with borrowing Niall for a little bit... wonder if I can sneak him off to some dark corner somewhere...**

Minutes later, Niall was still watching the portal, anxiously. Settled on the ground nearby, idle fingers again began picking mindlessly at the bandage.

After so much time spent alone with only his guilt as a companion, the thought of another human being to focus on made him restless. Guilt made a poor cell mate, leaving it's victims unhinged to the point of incoherence. Maker only knows, he'd had enough of that.

Running a frustrated hand down his face, he tried to turn his thoughts down a more agreeable avenue. It seemed like an eternity since he'd had the chance to just talk with a woman, any woman, but a _warrior_ woman was a novelty indeed. He left his thoughts to drift as they would, perhaps not the most advisable action, as such things left to their own devices can be quite capricious.

One detail in particular that had been bothering him about her, was her armor. A light chain mail, it seemed ill-fitted, as if it had been made for someone else, and hastily altered to suit. What kind of life had she been living up to now, that demanded an obvious lady-of-substance to wear armor, much less cast-offs. And those weapons. Were they really hers? Did she truly know how to use them?

Meh, enough stewing over frustrating trivialities. On to something more interesting.

He'd had enough time to study her appearance, but not enough time to mull over it, to his satisfaction.

"Well...", he mumbled, half-smile smoothing out ever-present worry lines, "Mull away..."

"My, my, don't we look content? I must say, it's a welcome change from the constipated scowl you wore earlier. I was almost afraid it was a permanent fixture!"

The strangled yelp wrung from him wasn't half as embarrassing as the awkward sprawl he tumbled into as all his muscles locked from the shock. The nettled glare he shot back only seemed to further amuse the green-eyed vixen. Rolling himself back into a sitting position, he hopped to his full height. Huffily adjusting his robes, he deliberately turned his back on her, hoping to give his livid face a chance to cool.

A mischievous giggle from behind him him set his ears aflame as well.

Andraste's holy knickers...... what was wrong with him? He hadn't felt this gawky since Wynne boxed his ears as an apprentice for attempting to sneak into the girl's dorm. That was at least ten years ago. Or was it twelve...? Baaaaahh, damn the woman! She was regressing him!

Collecting his scattered dignity, his rounded on his little tormentor. Close proximity, and the sense that something was...not quite right, pulled him up short.

Vivid emerald depths stared up at him like a hunter-spooked deer. Apparently, his abrupt spin had stolen her smug confidence, leaving him the advantage of the moment. Now, what to do with it...

Attempting to clear a suddenly dry throat, he reflex swallowed, once, twice... oh hells... The only thing he managed to work down was a few bubbles. His hands started to twitch nervously, and oddly, so did the corner of her mouth. She was chewing again.

Every spasm of that little mouth drew his face just that much further forward and down....

An acrid scent stole into his nostrils, doubling him up in a violent sneeze. She darted a few feet away, with all the speed of a frightened hare.

Clinging to his knees, he peered out at her, eyes watering profusely. A laugh that was more than half a cough, wheezed past his cock-eyed grin.

"You smell **awful**! _What_ have you been _playing_ in?"

"I swear Papa, I only jumped in one puddle!" She was chewing on a pinky finger, cheekily tweaking her ponytail with the other hand. Stifled giggles shook her shoulders, and apparently she stood on one foot when she was amused.

"Heh, I'll believe that when donkeys dance! Maker's mercy, woman, that's some defense mechanism you have! Is that how you treat everyone who tries to kiss you, or am I the only one with that honor?" Still laughing, he drew himself back up, tossing the hair out of his face and wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands.

Flapping her arms peevishly, she let out an irritated snort. Hands spanning down her length, she drew his attention to her armor. It's former bright sheen was marred by an evil looking, brownish-yellow muck.

"I'm sorry, but how was I supposed to know rage demons sprayed _sulfur spume_ when they died!? Aaaugh! I almost wish I could find that puddle! I'd be rolling in it!" Her shoulders shimmied a trifle, accompanied by a foot scuff.

Endearing little show of feminine disgust, that.

"Now _that_ would make an intriguing si-wait, did you say _rage demon_?" Closing the distance between them in two strides, he clamped her arms in an iron, worry-fueled grip. Her spine stiffened.

Ignoring her death glare, his eyes swept over her, checking for injuries or burns.

"Begging your pardon Niall, but what part of '**when they died**' did you miss?" Her voice had dropped an octave, but he chose to continue ignoring the danger signs in favor of insuring she was unhurt.

In the midst of his careful inspection, senses long attuned to magic began to poke at his subconscious. He'd first felt it when she stood laughing behind him, but more obvious details(close quarters, big green eyes) had...distracted him.

What was it? Now it was starting to annoy him. He set her back at an arm's length, studying her like an ancient Tervinter text, twisting her this way and that.

Her expression had melted from murderous intent, to helpless bemusement. Glowing pink spots stained her cheeks, but at the moment, he was too focused to notice.

It wasn't until he stopped looking straight at her and looked a little past her that he realized the change.

Her aura.

When he'd first seen her, her aura was a clean, uninteresting white, the aura of a soul with no magical talent. But now...

It was impossible. It _should_ be impossible. But there it was.

At the very edge of her aura was a distinct bright yellow, evidence of magical influence.

Somehow, sometime between their first meeting, and her return through the portal, she had achieved what no other mortal born without the gift could claim. She had inherited a mage's power.

Urgently, he pulled her up slightly by her arms, bringing her line of sight nearly level with his. She was just balanced on her toes, but his desperate curiosity made him a bit thoughtless.

His tone was charged with thinly veiled excitement.

"Something happened, didn't it? You look a little different. What _happened_?"

Her face strained nervously back from his, eyes widening to an impossible degree.

"Erm..... I became a mouse." With a face like that, it took no great stretch of the imagination to believe it.

Questions came spewing out now like water loosed from a dam.

"Did you? Did it help? I know I saw the tiny holes. Were you small enough to get through?"

Every question brought her a bit higher, leaving her peering down at him, nearly cross-eyed and staring resolutely at his nose.

Despite her ridiculous position, she replied pragmatically enough.

"I thought you'd given up. Why so excited?"

"I... I don't know."

His thoughts turned inward, grip relaxing enough to let her back down to her feet, but not releasing.

Directing his gaze back to her puzzled face, he gave her a tiny smile. Equal parts of awe, respect, disbelief, and regret jostled for a spot in his expression.

"You're... so much braver than I am. I was so sure it was impossible to get anywhere..."

A new thought struck him. Eagerly, he slid his hands up to her shoulders, accidentally jostling her with the force of his question.

"Do you think you could learn other shapes? Maybe they could help you get to places you couldn't otherwise..."

Her countenance darkened to sarcasm, regarding him from under her brows, eyes half lidded.

"Such confidence in my abilities! And this coming from the same person who treated me like an errant child not more than two minutes ago, for mentioning the disposal of a lesser demon."

His own dark brows slid into an incredulous frown.

"What? I-I was only worried that y-"

"Yes, you were worried that the little girl had hurt herself playing with nasty creatures, isn't that right?" Her hands flew up to clutch his upper arms, forcing _him_ closer for a change. Her teeth glittered in a crooked smile.

"Well, let me tell you something, big strong man that you are..."

Her right arm tossed off his left, then swung back to catch his right wrist in an alarmingly strong grip. With a tug and a twist, she pulled him bodily forward. Ducking under his chest, she straightened quickly back up, tossing him smartly on his back.

The force of his fall released an expulsion of breath from a hastily taken gasp. He lay blinking sluggishly, trying to convince his limbs to move. Fighting his way up from stunned dizziness, a weight on his chest pushed him back with a choking cough. Bleary eyes focused on the armored knee occupying the middle of his ribcage, and the smug, teasing grin floating just above his head.

"I think this is one damsel who can look after herself, wouldn't you agree?" Her fingers reached out to slowly trace the line of his jaw, continuing down his neck to rest on the middle of his chest, replacing the knee she had just removed.

A disgruntled growl was the only response she received. His head flopped back, gasping in great gulps of air, ignoring her for a few seconds. Finally, he raised a dramatic hand.

"Skill... acknowledged. Now, would my lady kindly allow me a few **hours** to recover my damaged pride?"

Down fell the hand.

Chuckling, she stood and offered him a hand up, hoisting him with shameful ease. Pulling his arm across her shoulders, she helped him over to the now familiar pillar. On reaching it, he leaned back wearily, then stared at her in surprise when she copied his actions, adding to her repertoire a whooshing sigh before sliding bonelessly to the ground.

She spared him a glance, noting his wry smirk.

"What? I'm supposed to be infallible now? Maker's mercy... All bravado aside, I was tired to begin with, and you, my friend, are a _very_ heavy man! Tossing you took more out of me than I'd like to admit!"

The first free laugh in a long while, burst out of him.

"So that was all just for show, then was it? I'd hate to see your response should someone ever _truly_ question your prowess! Maker preserve them!"

"Bah, I normally just smack'em around a bit with the flat of a blade. Saves energy."

They shared a weak laugh.

With some effort, Niall settled his face into as stern a frown as he could manage.

"By that, I believe I should be flattered by the waste of precious energy? Energy better used to serve other ends."

"Such as...?", she countered, puckishly. The grin she fixed him with was loaded with mischief.

So much for stern. His resolved features melted, flushing at least three different shades of scarlet. The innuendo in her lightly tossed question was not lost on him, and he had certainly not expected his reprimand to be used against him.

"W-well....I... you......ahhhhh......I-I was jus... just saying....th-"

She placed a finger to his stuttering mouth, shushing him. Mischief had given way to a strangely sad smile.

"Shhhh! Calm down, Niall, I know what you meant. And.....you _are_ right. There are...people who need me...need my help. Every ounce of energy I spend on selfish games, is strength lost. Strength I will undoubtedly need, before too long."

Her face now took on an emotion he was very familiar with, and one he hated to see _her_ wear, of all people... So, even _this_ little one was no stranger to Duty.

Impulsively, he captured the hand she still held to his face. He held her startled glance with brown eyes he knew from experience most women couldn't ignore.

"I know I haven't exactly been very helpful to you, and from the look of my situation, I can't go with you through the portals..."

Her brows crumpled, indicating an oncoming retort but he cut her off.

"I can't explain why, but trust me it's very true, now just let me finish."

He held the tips of her fingers barely brushing his lips, as he whispered slowly, "Promise me, my lady, only this...."

"P-promise...what?", she murmured weakly, at his pause.

His other hand slipped up to cradle her chin, pulling it just a bit too close for comfort.

"Swear to me...you won't go jumping into anymore 'puddles'. Honestly, it makes kissing you rather awkward!"

He flashed her a rakish grin, before darting her fingers to his lips for a quick kiss.

She stared at him blankly for a second, obviously flustered, hand floating where he'd left it.

Finally, she blinked... once.

He ducked just in time to miss what would have been an incredible open-handed whack; probably would have left his head buzzing for hours after.

Growling at the near miss, she scuttled away from him, yanking herself up from the ground and stomping a few feet away. Her hands tugged uselessly at baggy armor, apparently trying to give herself something to do, while she thought of an appropriately scathing epithet to blast him with.

Giving her a few moments to fume, he leaned languidly back against the pillar. Clasping his hands behind his head, his face fell into it's most natural position, relaxed and almost bored, confidence reigning in both eyes and smile. The smile only widened when she came back to stand over him, her own face a war of emotions.

Irritation battled with embarrassment, both finally losing to... well, would you look at that... wry humor.

Her shoulders slumped and hands spread in a gesture of surrender.

"Alright!", she laughed, "We're even! The truth is, I'm much too tired to come up with anything really inspired. The best I could think of to call you was 'Hound', and that just didn't have quite the...kick I wanted."

He lazily crossed his feet.

"This is Ferelden, after all, one could take that as a compliment, given the right situation!"

"Very true..." She nodded, smiling gently, thoughts obviously turning elsewhere for an instant.

"Still...", her brow rose, archly, "I guess, I _could_ have called you a wolf..."

Hearing that, his smile changed it's angle, the warm, brown gaze becoming a bit more direct and... speculative.

Realizing her slip, she quickly retracted the statement, palms out, as if warding him off.

"Apt as the name might be, I really don't have the time to see just what you'd make of _that_ one, so lets just call it a draw, shall we?"

Her laugh was nervous, to be sure, but the perusal she gave him was far from bashful.

Encouraging.

Tucking his lips into a meditative pout, he nodded grandly.

"I suppose I could let it slide...provided I finally get a chance at that kiss I've been hinting about..."

"Oooooh, no you don't! You've had several chances in the past few minutes alone, and you didn't claim them. You have my guard up now...it'll take some real dedication to sneak anything out of me, besides a fist to the face for your efforts!" Her chin tipped up in haughty indignation.

He spread his arms expansively, crooked grin blooming anew.

"A challenge I shall indeed look forward to meeting! Now, will you be off to do what needs doing, or shall I get started on our little game?"

He made as if to lunge at her, to which she responded with a charming yip and a mad scramble backwards. Needless to say, the ground reached up and tripped her.

She sat quietly on her tush, gathering her composure. Gracefully she stood, pulled a smart about-face, and promptly marched off toward the transport pedestal. Yanking a chain cowl out of Maker-knows-where (he had some theories, but would dwell on them later), she jammed it down over her head, muttering to herself.

Something along the lines of "silly, know-it-all mages", "stupid, bossy men", and a very distinct "thrice be-damned tall, dark, handsome types!"

The last was all but a shriek, as her hand fell with a smack on the surface of the pedestal, body quickly dissolving to spirit, drifting off to the first of the islands.

Niall melted, finally giving himself over helplessly to the laughter he'd been holding in for several minutes.

Having spent all the energy he was willing to allow on frivolity, he settled back quietly, preparing himself for the only task in which he could aid the intrepid little warrior: sustaining his life as long as possible. He intended to buy as much time as he could for her to fight without the burden of the soul draining exhaustion he now felt.

A boyishly charming smile drifted across his face as a recent memory shoved it's way back into his mind.

"Handsome, she says? Heh, that's new..."

How glad was he that she was not present, to see just how red his ears were...

**A/N: In case anyone was wondering about the rating, next chappy just might clear that up for ya. (winkwink, nudgenudge)**

**For anyone who noticed the reference, the ending was my rather clumsy tribute to Aimo's "Meet the Aeducans" on Deviantart. For anyone who doesn't know, Aimo is an incredible artist, and she produces some of the most hilarious and adorable fan art for Dragon Age. If you haven't seen her work yet....my bunnies and I strongly suggest you do... (menacing glare) Please no kill me, Aimo!**


End file.
